Between the intersecting crosswalks at a busy intersection – an example of urban planning gone horribly wrong – Phern have created a traffic jam. Oppressive heat is turning my head into mush, so it’s hard to think. Each of these tunes, I can get into. Nothing is quite missing. All the things are in place. My friends are saying something, and I’m wondering if I should respond in English or French – the perennial question when hanging out in Montreal. Sitting on the roof of this old warehouse, looking out at what seems not unlike East Berlin, Communist-era buildings that all served a purpose 40 years ago but have since turned into urban relics. I’m talking about how I wished I had gone to art school, but predictably, they’re not sympathetic.